


Welcome home

by Lauredessine



Series: Let's be Danes: Drabbles collection [3]
Category: The Last Kingdom (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Homecoming, In which I write fluff without angst lmao, what a day!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 07:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17039678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauredessine/pseuds/Lauredessine
Summary: A little scene of Sihtric coming back to Ealhswith at the alehouse.





	Welcome home

He heard her inside the room above the alehouse, the sounds of her voice drowned amidst the grunts and moans of a man. Sithric's hand gripped the flowers he bought tighter. At least she was alive and well and soon she would return to Coccham where she would be safer. He trusted Hild would see that his family was well and that Eahlswith would run her own alehouse. If anything she would thrive there, that was, if Uhtred's plan did not change and he did not have to move his family to Bebbanburg. In any case he would follow him and fight. He was a warrior after all.

A loud bang drew him out of his thoughts and he heard her scream.

“That's enough.” his voice quivered as he uttered the words and burst into the room, carefully placing the flowers where they ought to be. He drew his sword.

He saw her half naked on a raw bed and a man over her, his cock about to be thrust inside his wife. Eahlswith gasped when her eyes fell upon him, she drew back and steadied herself when she realized he finally had come home, her lips twitching thin in anger and he found her even more beautiful. He suddenly grew soft, his lips spreading into a smile full of devotion. She was beautiful his wife: curvy, dark-haired, fierce. She knew what she wanted in life and was a challenge itself. Sithric chose her because of that; she was graced by Freya and he worshiped Idunn.

“You look like a soaked rat.” she said scowling.

“Oh gods I missed you!” fondness filled his voice as he melted at her sight. He grew cold as the man who was fucking his wife a moment before stepped towards him with an angry face.

“Leave us boy! The whore's mine! Take your turn later!”

Sithric's smile grew threatening at the sight of this old bulky man, sulky-mouthed, fat, red with ale, staggering and bellowing. Sithric grew steady, eyes sharp, smile sharp, sword sharp. Eahlswith rolled her eyes, sighed and shrugged in annoyance, as though she knew what would happen.

“Call my wife yours one more time and I'll slit your balls and leave them hanging on that very door.” he set the tip of his blade near his crotch.

The man gulped. “You wouldn't do that.” he reeked fear. “I- I am a man of God.” he stammered.

“Even better.” Sithric smiled, glad of his little effect. “I am a Dane.” in his mouth it sounded somehow more feral, more threatening. It sounded a death sentence. “Now, go.”

“I- I'll refer to the king!” the old man almost choked with outrage.

“And I'll tell him you were fucking the wife of another man and when you will leave his palace I'll have you dragged into Danelaw so I can kill you myself.” he was calm, but his knuckles told of his anger, all white, clasping his blade. “Now get out!”

The old man, red with rage, staggered on wobbly legs towards the exit when Sithric stopped him, his fist on his chest. He glowered at him as hard as he could.

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Sithric asked, his voice calm and edged with something dark.

“What?”

Sithric tilted his head to his wife. “Pay her. Handsomely.”

For a moment the man looked around, shaking with nervousness and fright as what this dark-haired Dane would do to him. He walked towards Eahlswith to give her a few pieces of silver.

Sithric growled. “Is that all? You fucked the most beautiful woman on Midgard. You fucked my wife, my beautiful lovely wife. Surely for her good graces you can produce more silver.”

“Thief!” the man spat.

Sithric pinned him against the wall. “Be glad we are at Winchester!” he pressed a dagger on his throat. “Be glad I let you live with some silver to spare for your ale and whores, priest!”

Reluctantly, the priest complied and gave Eahlswith a few coins more, enough to buy a small farm, now, with what Sithric had brought with him; a farm where their son would live and play. She thanked him and gave her husband an annoyed glare.

“I could have handled this.” she seethed when the door slammed behind the man.

Sithric sheathed back his sword. “I know you could have.” he grinned. “I couldn't help it.”

He hopped on the bed and crawled to her to take her head in his hands, losing himself in the deep brown of her eyes, a wide smile largely spread on his face.

“You look like an idiot, you know that?” her lips twitched, hardly hiding her smile.

“An idiot who love you.” he lay beside her, marveling at her face, forehead pressed on hers, embracing her as she coiled around his slender figure.

“An idiot who kept me waiting.”

“I've brought you flowers.” he showed them on the table.

“Not enough.”

“Woman, I'd cover you with silver it it could make amend.”

She smiled. “You are here. I missed you, even if you are still an idiot.”

Sithric chuckled as he kissed her fingers. “Did I mention I missed you?”

“Once or twice.” her smile grew gentle and soft. “Where were you all that time? I couldn't bid you farewell and no one would tell me where you went. I was afraid you were dead.” in her voice shone a gaunt ordeal picturing a life without him.

Sithric kissed her forehead. “We had to flee in haste so that we would not be killed. Uhtred was wounded and cursed. We went north – to Dunholm.”

“I thought you wish never to return there.”

“I did. But Uhtred needed to be cured. The sorceress I told you about, that who cursed us, she was here too, pawning the warlords there. We played games, drank and fought, until Beocca came by and told me that you had came back to the alehouse.”

“I was serving ale for a time and I wouldn't whore myself no more so long as our son was there.” she said, on the defensive.

“I know. You did what you had to do.” he kissed her cheek. “Our son-”

“He is with Uhtred's children. The crown wouldn't let me keep him knowing I am the wife of a Dane.”

“Half-Dane!” he corrected, a tad too loud.

“Half-Dane.” she gave him a gentle look. “Abbess Hild promised me she would keep an eye on him. She told me of his health as frequently as she could and was a comfort. He was taken away from me barely a month after you left.”

“Hild is terrifying.” Sithric shuddered. “I once saw her beat a man in front of a church after she attempted to negotiate for the life of a woman. I saw her kill Danes and throw spears and pray thereafter.” he whispered, “I saw her beat Finan in an ale contest.”

“Now that inspires fear.” Sithric nodded, eyes wide opened. “You were gone a year at best. Couldn't you have come back?”

“I could have, but I was tied to Uhtred and his promise to rescue Aethelflaed, and then I was tied by my mission as a spy amongst the Danes and then I was tied by the curse his sorceress threw on him. I couldn't come back until he freed me. Uhtred is my lord, I must abide by him.” he kissed her jawline. “Now I am here and I have never loved you more.”

She squirmed under his kisses. “That sorceress... You went to rescue her.”

“To retrieve her for Uhtred to get rid of the curse that hanged over us. I confess she was a beauty, enticing, enthralling. She managed to keep every single Dane under her yoke, but not I, I promise. I had a talisman for that.” he bumped his forehead against hers. “You. You are my wife and I keep hearing your voice at night. You are a whisper that follows me everywhere. I love you so much.”

“You didn't have sex with any other woman, no doubt?”

“I drank ale, but Finan took all the women for himself, so no, sadly I didn't get that chance.”

She slapped his arm. He chuckled. “I should thank Finan, then.”

“Thank my heart, Eahlswith. It's yours. I swore it to your god and mine.”

“Did Uhtred set things aflame this time again?”

“Alehouses, boats, tents – The man cannot help it.” Sithric snorted.

“Did you fight well?”

Sithric shook his head, offended. “If I fought well? I thought you knew I did. My love, where is your trust?”

She dug her fingers through his black hair, marveling at his eyes, one that bore the color of a dark wine sea, the other that was the color of forests in autumn. She frowned. “Did you wash? You smell so good.”

Sithric gave a beaming smile. “I did. I tried to look good for you so that you won't hate me.”

She laughed. “Do you truly think I can hate you?” she cuddled against him. “You are my husband. I can be mad at you, but I will never hate you.”

“Did I mention I missed you?”

“Once or twice.” she smelled the air. “Oh God.” she grumbled, standing up. “I reek that priest's smell.” she walked towards a bucket of clean water and some soap Sithric once bought from a Spanish merchant.

She undressed and Sithric rubbed his thumb on his lips, lost in the vision of his wife's gentle curves, of her ass, her breasts, her hair. She hardly hid herself, but why should she? He was her husband and she loved him as much as he did her. With a cloth she chased filth and smell, shivered at the coolness of the water, let drops drip down her spine, let her hair flow down her back, her slender figure a spell like nothing else. Had Skade wanted to entice him, she would have had to shape-shift like Loki and even then he wouldn't have yielded; his wife's feisty nature was something that did not stand comparison.

She grew aware of his eyes on her and grinned to herself that he lost himself in the sight of her. She peered over her shoulder and saw him, intensely looking, almost agape, mesmerized, hunger and arousal glimmering in his eyes. He licked his lips. He did missed her.

He fell back on the bed, a wide smile spreading still on his face, a smile of satisfaction, of bliss. He laughed at something only he knew, arms crossed behind his head.

“Is there something funny?” Eahlswith asked as she cleaned up her cunt.

“I was only thinking how fortunate I am.”

“Flatterer.” she sprinkled him with fresh water that made him yelp. “Soaked weasel.” she taunted him, giggling.

Sithric laughed. Once cleansed she put on another dress, a blue one; one that Sithric had bought in Danelaw, and combed her hair as she sat on the raw bed.

He twirled the locks of her chestnut hair around his finger and watched as goosebumps spread across her neck, which he kissed, groaning his pleasure to as much as touch her.

She sighed. “Now what?” her voice was graver. “What will become of us? Shall I stay in Winchester? What if you leave never to return? Am I to remain here until I make myself a whore again, risking never to see our son again?” fear echoed each of her words.

“That will never happen.” he kissed her shoulder. “Not if I can't help it.” he set himself straighter. “Now we follow Uhtred to retrieve his children, we take back our son and we return to Coccham where we buy a farmstead for you to oversee, where I fight for lord Uhtred-”

“The fire-loving heathen.”

He laughed. “The fire-loving heathen – Where our son grow up strong and sturdy and where he will be taught how to fight, where I pour my income in your good care and where hopefully, we have another child.”

She rose an eyebrow. She always did that and it made him crazy. “Another child? Did you miss me that much?”

“Oh yes.” he laughed. “I want a daughter. A beautiful perfect fierce daughter to take after you.”

“Take me back to Coccham and we shall see.” she gave a sad sigh, her shoulders lowering. “I will miss Gisela there. She was always a delight to be around.”

“There will be Hild there.”

She shrugged. “At least, yes.”

Bearing a mischievous smile, Sithric produced from his purse a necklace made of silver and blue glass; a rich gift he had brought from Danelaw thinking it would adorn his wife as well as a queen. While she still combed her hair, he fastened it around her neck and felt her startle under the cold of the silver. She turned to him, aghast.

“What is this?” she marveled at the glimmering blue pearls.

“I stole it from a Dane lord. I thought it would suit you.” he smiled again, proud of his surprise.

Her fingers traveled along the sterling line of blue glass, lingering on her breasts. Sithric took her hands just as gently to kiss her knuckles.

“Do you like it?” he inquired.

“This is too much.” she gave a sharp breath. “Sithric, this is too much.”

“Nothing is too much for you.” he shrugged. “Besides, the man I stole it from will soon be dead.”

“You will return it.” she was astonished.

He rolled his eyes. “No. It's there around your neck and there is no taking it off.”

She slapped his arm. “You could at least have stolen something less.”

He rubbed his arm where she had slapped him. “This was the least extravagant necklace around. Gods woman you hurt more than a shieldwall.”

“I thought you were a warrior.” she rose an eyebrow.

“I am, but I am also your husband.”

“Need I to slap you more?”

“Only if you love me.” he rose an eyebrow, a habit he got from her.

“Ha! Who told you I love you?”

“Your eyes did.”

“Oh really? Then what is to say about your love?”

He leaned back on the bed. “I am not scald enough to sing you songs, but can't you see the longing in my eyes?”

“One tells a story, the other another.” she twisted and leaned to his lips, grazing them. “That is why I love you.”

“So you do love me.” his smile grew giddy.

She shook her head. “You are a child.”

“I like to think myself a fool.”

“Then you are a fool.”

“A fool who loves you.”

She turned back, combing her hair. “How many times must you say it?”

“As long as I live and breathe.”

“You are impossible!”

Sithric chuckled. He reached up her neck, parted the curtain of hair from her shoulder and gently kissed her bare skin, his lips grazing the silver he had hung around her neck. She shivered under his lips and gave a sigh of pleasure. He loved her sighs. He was the only one she showed pleasure to, he tried to convince himself. Eagerly, he trailed kisses along her neck to her jawline, fiddling her wild strands of hair.

His eyes suddenly lit with an idea. He grinned to himself and settled behind her, both his eyes riveted on her familiar figure. He parted locks of hair, dividing her manes and began to twist them, entangle them, braid them.

She squirmed. “What are you doing?” her voice more like a squeal than anything.

“Shh, shh... I'm just braiding your hair.” his voice was deep and steady.

He felt her sit still and noticed a faint discomfort in the way she held her shoulders. He could almost tell she worried her teeth on her lower lip. Perhaps she wasn't as used to it as she was before. Perhaps she had lost a few of their habits. Sithric brushed off theses concerns. She would recover them all soon enough.

Gently, with all the care in the world, he twisted and wrung her hair in two side braids up to the crown of her head which he gathered into two thick intricate braids on the back of her head, each of his touches on her scalp making her moan and release what she had been holding with delight. She released the tension in her shoulders, goosebumps sent, smearing across her bare skin, and Sithric held his breath, mesmerized at the way she moved.

He braided her hair on the top of her head into small and loose braids, up until he reached the crown of her head, intertwined it into a thick loose plait he framed with the two small braids that sourced from the side of her hair. He found himself holding his breath, entranced by the way he seemed to sway her, and eagerly attempted to kiss her before he held back, afraid to ruin the magic of the moment. Still, she was beautiful, her hair shining with all the grace of the sun, warm, gentle, soft, shimmering like a steady sea. His heart seemed to race harder in his heart, while he felt dizzy, giddy, full of a childish glee at the softness of her hair, the frame of her whole.

She shivered again, moaned, breath sharp and short, savoring the warm feelings of his fingers gently brushing her scalp, letting go of every thing, every threads she had clung to when he was gone; every fears that he would die, every concerns that had nibbled at her for so long. She let go completely under his expert hands; let go and drifted in perfect delight that at last her husband had returned.

He let strands hang loose on top of her mane and a few others near her ears. She gave a sharp breath as his hands left her scalp followed by a spasm across the whole of her body.

Sithric released this breath he had been holding, marveled at his work, marveled at her, slowly turning to face him, eyes brown, hair brown, chestnut and fertile land. She frowned at his frozen face.

“What is it? Do I look bad?”

He shook his head, closed his mouth and gave a smile. “No. You are perfect.”

“Can you show me?”

“I have no mirror.” in his mouth it sounded like an apology.

She crawled upon him. “Describe it, then.”

His eyes sparkled, one shimmering sea, the other one burning embers. “You look like – You look like- You look like a Dane.” he gently brushed her cheek. “Fierce. Unforgiving. Beautiful. Freya incarnate.” he chuckled. “It suits you.” he tucked a wild lock of hair behind her ear. “You are enthralling.”

She frowned. “I won't be able to walk the streets looking like this heathen goddess of yours.”

He shrugged. “You can wear a cross – as big as a man.” he turned her around so that she lay on her back. “And even so, I will not leave your side until you are back in Coccham where Hild can defend you. The abbess is a force to be reckoned with. As for now, anyone who tries to do you ill will not live to see any more winter.”

“You wouldn't!”

He shrugged. “I could. But I won't. I care too much about our peace here to do that and it would do Uhtred ill. I couldn't bear seeing him banished twice; not on my account that is.”

“You care about him.”

“I do. He gave me a place when he should have killed me.” he chuckled. “A chance my mother gave me one of her eyes so that her fucker won't claim me whole. Uhtred might have confused us both otherwise.” his chuckle grew sour.

“I am grateful she did.” She brushed off some strands of hair that stuck to his skin and pressed a kiss on his forehead. “I have missed you. My life wouldn't be half the bliss it is without you in it.”

“What did I do to deserve such a beautiful, such a perfect wife?” His smile beamed.

“I have a thing for idiots that looks like wet weasels who happens to be Danes.”

“Half Dane.”

“Half Dane.” she rubbed her nose around his grazing his lips with hers, tempting him with a kiss.

He fiddled with the necklace hanging from her neck, drew her to him just as gently as he loved her, and she leaned to his face, to his mouth, smiled a warm smile and gazed, lost for a moment in his eyes; his eyes, so alive, warm, welcoming, entrancing lit by the dim light of a late afternoon. He went agape as a ray swarmed the room, making her wild hairdo glow fallow, her eyes turn pools of honey, her skin grow as warm as summer. He gave a soft chuckle, barely audible and brushed her lips with his thumb, slowly, gently, a feather against her skin.

“I missed you.” he murmured.

Her lips grazed his. “I know.”

“I love you.” he rose an eyebrow.

She chuckled. “I know.”

“What else do you know?” his voice was soft, almost inaudible.

“This.”

She dipped to him, kissed him, claimed his lips, brushing his growing beard with her hands, combing his hair, entangling them, kissing him again and again, losing herself in his scent, in his moans and groans, in his sighs, in his face; losing herself completely to the soft magic of the moment. He came back; he was there; he was warm. It felt as though everything was revived now, her former life, her marriage, love, hope. He was here now and it was all that mattered – that and his promise to take her back to Coccham as soon as possible. He was back and she kissed him harder as his hands went on her waist, clasping her, drawing her firmer against him, roaming her thighs, her ass, everything he had not claimed yet.

She felt him hard against her and drew back. “Listen now, I just washed scum from my body, I won't let you make me wash again. I have had enough for today.” her voice had a scared edge to it.

Sithric closed his eyes and nodded. “I understand.” he sat back. “Does that mean you must stop kissing me?”

She giggled. “No.”

He nodded. “Good.”

He turned her around and resumed his kisses, the soft ones, the passionate ones, the sultry ones. She laughed and giggled as his hands roamed every single part of her, brushed her scalp or her ass, moaning, sighing whenever he made her do so. He kissed her for so long her lips grew sore, but not long enough for her to be bored of his presence. She needed more. She needed him, his calm, his foolishness; she needed him and the laugh he brought her.

“I can't wait to get back to Coccham.” he breathed as he shifted on his back.

“Oh yes?”

“Yes.” he kissed her again. “I want a daughter.”

“A sweet little daughter.” she tapped the tip of his nose. “Once we are both back in Coccham, we shall see – Once we are home, we shall see.”

“Eahlswith?”

“Sithric?” she mock-shook her head.

“Is it weird?”

“What?”

“That being in your arms feels like home.”

She chuckled, tears rushing to her eyes. She chuckled and shook her head, placing a tender kiss on his lips as his hand rested on her cheek. “No.” she shook her head. “No that is not weird.”

He gazed at her for a moment, wiping off the tears that pearled in the corner of her eyes and kissed her in return.

“Good. I am back then. I have come back home.” he kissed her forehead. “Where I belong.”

She gave a moved laugh. “Welcome home.”

Then, she embraced him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I just realized the names are misspelled, but anyway, have this and enjoy my fellow Danes!  
> Prompt was “Sh! Stop moving! I’m just braiding your hair.”


End file.
